yet death will be but a pause
by dustbutterfly
Summary: Wormtail had never managed a Patronus. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps there was bravery in accepting his fate. His plans… he was going to betray the only friends he'd ever had, a man who called him brother, his wife and child… He deserved the worst, and what was worse than the kiss of a dementor? (Or, what happens to a secret when there is no soul left to contain it?)
1. Peter

_yet death will be but a pause_

Wormtail had never managed a Patronus. Wisps of silver, yes, but barely enough to even be classed as corporeal. It was hopeless. There wasn't even any point in trying. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps there was bravery in accepting his fate. His plans… he was going to betray the only friends he'd ever had, a man who called him brother, his wife and child… He deserved the worst, and what was worse than the kiss of a dementor?

Or; what happens to a secret when there is no soul left to contain it?

_Bramble Cottage, Godric's Hollow, 30th October 1981_

James pulled Peter into a tight hug. "You need to visit," he ordered. "As often as you can. I know you're busy, what with the Order and your mum being poorly -"

"I'll see what I can do," replied Peter, with unusually watery eyes. "Have the owls sent Dumbledore and Sirius the notes?"

James held up a slip of parchment in response, upon which the secret of his family's address was written in Peter's untidy scrawl. "Only Remus is left."

Peter shifted nervously. "I - I know you think it can't be Moony, but… Prongs, we haven't seen or heard from him in months."

His friend covered his ears, closed his eyes and started singing at the top of his lungs. From the kitchen, his son joined in gleefully. Peter wasn't sure who was more out of tune. After a few seconds of this, James uncovered his eyes and ears, grinning at Peter before his expression turned serious. "Moony would never betray us or Dumbledore. You and Sirius need to come up with a new conspiracy theory, mate."

Peter laughed, a high-pitched nervous chuckle. "Remember when we convinced the first years that the Bloody Baron could take a physical form on a new moon?"

James clapped him on the back. His laughter was a far more solid, hearty sound. "How could I forget? Now that, that's the sort of theory we need." Once again, however, his joy was short-lived. "Do you want to stay for dinner? I don't like the thought of you apparating on an empty stomach. That was some heavy magic you and Lily did today."

Regret flooded his face and Peter shook his head. "I have to check on mum before it gets dark. She's warded her house again and you know what she's like if it gets too late…"

James, who had not actually seen Peter's mother since the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts, nodded sagely.

"Actually," mumbled Peter, checking the time on his battered watch before reaching for his cloak, "I should really leave now." His last words were somehow even more muffled, as James surged up from his well-worn armchair to engulf the smaller man in another hug.

"You stay safe," he said fiercely.

Peter smirked, although the expression didn't quite meet his eyes. "Of course. And you. Give my love to Lily and the baby."

"What, you're not even going to say goodbye? Oi, Lils! Bring Harry through! Peter's heading off now."

Lily came through the low archway separating the kitchen from the front room, Harry on her hip. The baby was babbling softly to himself around a clump of Lily's bright hair. Upon seeing his father, his noises got even louder and he spat out Lily's curls in favour of stretching his arms. James bounded over to his family, gently lifting Harry out of Lily's arms before pulling his wand from his back pocket and slowly levitating Harry around the room.

"Is that… is it safe?" Peter asked nervously, hand drifting to scratch at his cheek.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Harry bounces. Thinks it's terribly funny, does Jim." she said, pointing to a small crack in the ceiling. Her voice shifted from her broad midlands accent to an imitation of James' more refined tones. "_Oh, Lils, we have to keep it as a memory of his first accidental magic,_ he says." Lily turned to face Peter more fully. "Doesn't stop to think about the structural integrity of the house, though, does he? Idiot," she said fondly, ruffling James' hair before hugging Peter. "You stay safe," she whispered into his ear, unconsciously echoing her husband in tone as well as words.

Peter could only nod. "I'll apparate down the road," he choked out, desperately needing to flee from the almost idyllic scene before him. James' loose, easy posture and Lily's wide smile as they fuss over their son were deceptive but Peter saw the underlying tension in his shoulders, the fear in her eyes.

The front door didn't slam behind him, for which Peter was absurdly grateful. It had been hard enough avoiding their suspicion as they bound their safety to his loyalty. Any doubts held by those entrusting a secret would make the charm useless. It had been good for Peter that neither James nor Lily doubted him - how else could he complete his mission and actually be _useful _to someone for once? - but that did not help his self-loathing one bit. Peter felt cold. It was as if he was in the Dark Lord's presence, knowing that one toe across the line could result in his death. Peter was in awe of the power of the man and like any sane wizard he both feared and craved that power.

He reached the end of the path. His branded arm burned with a phantom pain. Peter scratched his cheek again and his fingers came away bloody. The faces of James, Lily and Harry felt as though they were burnt into the backs of his eyelids. Sirius's mocking laughter echoed in his ears. What would they think of him when they realised he had betrayed them? Would they remember their time as children fondly? It seemed impossibly long ago to Wormtail.

Wormtail wanted to lie down and cry. It was all so bloody hopeless. He would never rise through the ranks and become powerful himself. His friends would always be disappointed in him, no matter which path he took.

A flash of black made him fumble for his wand. Chestnut, dragon heartstring, just over nine inches. Had he ever been worthy? He fell to his knees, heart pounding so hard and fast that he thought it might just detach itself from his chest and rise up, up, up through his throat until he choked to death on it.

The black swooped, floated in front of him. A skeletal hand started slowly pushing the hood back.

Wormtail had never managed a Patronus. Wisps of silver, yes, but barely enough to even be classed as corporeal. It was hopeless. There wasn't even any point in trying. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps there was bravery in accepting his fate. His plans… he was going to betray the only friends he'd ever had, a man who called him brother, his wife and child… He deserved the worst, and what was worse than the kiss of a dementor?

nothing

and then

so cold

nothingness

nothingness

nothingness

* * *

**AN:** And here we go. Hopefully it uploads this time although I'm not sure ffnet supports some of my formatting choices? I don't know.

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic for about... seven years I think? My current plan is that it will be around five chapters but I am hoping to be inspired and potentially extend the story further. I have two more chapters written up which seems like a good buffer right now. We'll see.

Please let me know what you think!


	2. James

_Bramble Cottage, Godric's Hollow, 31st October 1981_

Harry's favourite game is catching puffs of coloured smoke. It's an easy enough spell, one James has known since his first or maybe second year. He tells Lily that their son will be an amazing quidditch player. _Look at those reflexes_, he cheers. _He's such a clever boy_.

Lily thinks he's going stir crazy, and maybe she's right. She does seem to know him better than he does at times. It's not that he regrets having to stay in hiding - the dark, horrible, mostly vanquished side of him screams that he needs to be out there, making the death eaters pay for what they are doing to him and his people. There is another part of his brain that wants to take the baby, take Lily and get the _fuck_ out of England. All that matters is Harry and keeping him safe and happy.

But the biggest part of him, probably the part that Lily recognises most because she feels it even more strongly than he does, feels tremendous guilt. As long as they are in the house, no harm can come to them. What about Sirius, traipsing around muggle London, a target for almost every family member he ever scorned? What about Remus, slowly infiltrating the werewolf packs in a desperate attempt to prevent more children being forced into a lifetime of pain and derision?

James Potter is not a fool. He is the first to admit that he was a massive nob in school, but he has grown up. He has fought in a war and now he is barred from it. _He does not regret protecting his family_, that is important to remember. He just wishes he could protect his family and be at his friends' sides as they face a world that is determined to kill them for their beliefs and their parents.

What he means is, he enjoys staying at home with Harry. If it wasn't for the fact that people want to murder them all, he'd probably quite pleased with the way his life is mapping out.

Harry claps his hand excitement and James feels a surge of overwhelming pride, especially when Lily appears, looking slightly frazzled. This is his family and he will protect them with his life.

"So," she says hoarsely, before coughing. "Gurdyroot? Not an option."

"It's probably just an old witches' tale," James tells her. "Gurdyroots are basically useless. Not a protective talisman or anything like that. Not even good for pranks, most of the time, unless you want to make someone's food taste sh- terrible."

"Nice save. Harry doesn't want to learn any bad language from his dada, does he?"

Harry beams at her and giggles. "Da!"

James puffs up and shoots some red sparks from his wand, making Harry squeal. "That's my boy!"

Rolling up her sleeves, Lily pulls out her own wand. "Lights? Pfft, Potter. Isn't Daddy silly, Harry? I know you like bubbles best, don't you?"

The two dance around the front room, each trying to coax Harry to choose between James' lights and Lily's bubbles. He toddles around, occasionally falling down but always getting back on his feet so the game can continue.

_Yes_, thinks James, _it is a good life_.

So, naturally, that's when all hell breaks loose.

Loud banging at the door makes Harry instantly start crying in shock. Lily swoops in, picking him up and running towards the back door like they'd planned so long ago in case something like this ever happened. James raises his wand into a stance that is far better suited for dueling, and approaches the door with a caution that would have made his teenage self blink in confusion.

He knows the voice shouting on the other side of the door but that means nothing. Just because it sounds like Sirius doesn't mean it actually is. That's how they killed the McKinnons, after all - one death eater polyjuiced to look like Marlene's best friend Phoebe, no suspicion, and then a funeral for an entire family.

(James doesn't have time to question whether he should be quite so desensitised to the war at the ripe age of twenty one.)

"Prongs!" Sirius shouts, "Prongs, are you okay? James!"

"I solemnly swear," begins James, only just loud enough to be heard over the racket being made by the man outside.

Sirius swears, and James is suddenly glad that Harry isn't close enough to hear and repeat. "That I am up to no good." There's a moment of silence and then a familiar bark.

James exhales in relief and then presses his hand against the door frame to unlock it. A clever ward, one which Sirius had come up with himself. A large black dog charges in, knocking James over before pouncing on him and licking his cheek. Whatever Padfoot tastes must satisfy him because he steps off James' chest and transforms back into a human.

"What's wrong?" James demands.

Sirius looks at him with wild grey eyes, almost burning in their intensity. "Peter hasn't checked in today. I checked his flat and it's not disturbed, his neighbour says she hasn't seen him since yesterday. I went to his mum's and she said she's not seen him all week -"

James swears. "He was going to apparate to hers as soon as he left yesterday. Something must have happened after he left."

Sirius nods, then pushes his hair out of his face impatiently. "If his mum hasn't seen him then it was definitely this end. I can go out as Padfoot, see where the scent leads me. Like sixth year, remember?"

"Jim?" Lily is hovering in the doorway, body shielding Harry from the two men. "What's going on?"

Summoning his shoes, James shakes his head at her. "Peter's missing."

Lily freezes. "We have to go to Hogwarts. Now. We can't stay here - Harry can't be here if the secret is broken."

"The secret can't be broken unwillingly," James reminds her. "If they've got Wormtail, it's still safe to stay here."

Sirius swears again, and Harry pokes his head round in interest. "Lily's right, Prongs."

"Isn't it a bit suspicious that Peter disappears right after being made secret keeper? Please, James, we have - I won't let them get our boy."

But it's _Peter_, James wants to scream. It's the boy who cried at night for over a week when they got to Hogwarts! Peter wouldn't betray them, they are _brothers _in all but blood.

Then he looks at Harry, looks into bright green eyes and says, "Okay. We apparate to Hogsmeade, walk to the castle, then Sirius and I will look for Peter. Harry stays safe."

Lily looks as though she wants to disagree, but stays quiet. Instead it is Sirius who objects to the plan. "We'll be too exposed in the village, especially since you don't have the cloak right now. We can't trust anyone but ourselves and Dumbledore right now, yeah? I'll send a patronus."

This time Lily does object. "No, I will. Dumbledore thinks you're the secret keeper, remember? He'll be suspicious if you send a message saying we're compromised."

Sirius frowns, then waves a hand to show his agreement. Being able to cast a corporeal patronus has always been a pride for Sirius, perhaps more so than most wizards. It proves that he is not as dark as his family, that his magic has a purity and power to it that many struggle to achieve.

Lily's doe lights up the room; James feels his shoulders relax slightly at the sight of it. Lily frowns in concentration, and then the doe leaps out of the window.

"And now we wait," says Sirius grimly.


	3. Lily

_Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, 1st November 1981_

I can't sit still. It's as if my body has an electric wire running through it, shocking me into action every time my brain quiets. I start counting to drown out the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. This is no time to panic. Harry needs me, and so I need to be able to think.

_One. Two. Three. _

He is such a bubbly little boy, full of joy. He's not a threat to anyone, not even when it's bath time and he decides to scream the house down.

_One. Two. Three. Four._

Divination is a load of shit, anyway. 'Neither can live while the other survives', what does that even mean? If I ever meet the Trelawney woman, I swear, she'll be eating her meals through a straw.

_One. Two - _

Dumbledore returns to his office in a ball of flame. It's fortunate that Fawkes is healthy right now, I think, eyeing the bird. He was ready for a burning the last time I was in this room and looked disturbingly like the chicken James had prepared for our Sunday roast the week before, albeit less healthy.

"Where are the boys?" I demand. Sirius and James, James and Sirius, Padfoot and Prongs. They were a package deal from the day we all met. If something happened to Sirius, I don't know how Jim would react. He was so strong, all the time. Even now, with Peter missing… he put on a brave face and started the search with the single-minded determinedness that I had fallen in love with nearly four years ago. If something else happened to one of his boys, there would be hell to pay, you mark my words.

"They are with Peter's mother. James asked me to give you this." Dumbledore levitates a small, unobtrusive rock towards me. I am grateful that Harry is in such a deep sleep; catching is one of his favourite games at the moment. Last week it was trying to fit his feet in his mouth. My lovely boy…

I cast a silent _finite _onto the rock and it transforms back to the original wooden stag. A sign to say we are safe, we are alive. We will see you soon.

Looking up, I see Dumbledore smiling faintly. "He was always very talented at transfiguration. A clever trick, to hide the symbol in something more mundane."

"Better than me," I say, but there is no heat in my voice. "What happened?"

Dumbledore's smile, faint as it was, fades. He looks at me over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "My dear girl, I am so terribly sorry."

I clutch Harry tighter briefly, until I notice that he is squirming. If I can give him a few more minutes peace, I will. My arms relax but I can feel the tension coiling in my stomach. I feel sick when I ask if they found Peter, if he was hurt.

I cannot bring myself to ask if he is dead.

"There are some things which are worse than death," Dumbledore muses.

I shake my head. "He's been captured?"

"Worse. Poor Peter Pettigrew has been forced to endure that which I would wish on no one. He appears to have been kissed by a dementor."

My brain freezes.

_No._

The first time I spoke to Peter Pettigrew was on our third day of Hogwarts. He was sat in the corner, hidden away from the crowd. I wanted somewhere to read unbothered. Normally I would have found Sev - _Snape_, but it was past curfew for first years. The girls in my dorm were lovely but…

Peter was always incredibly nervous. He told me in a quiet whisper that he wasn't sure he belonged in Gryffindor - he wasn't bold, nor brash like the other boys in his dorm.

I told him that I wasn't either, and that my mum always said there were different kinds of bravery. I said to him, you must have some to be sorted into Gryffindor.

He asked me what type of bravery I had. I didn't tell him I had the sort of bravery required to thrive in a world that hates me for what I am, what I represent. How could I have known _that _at eleven years old? No, I pulled a face and joked that it definitely _wasn't_ the sort of bravery that involved putting my head under water. I made him laugh that day, and the next morning he was chatting happily to Remus at breakfast. Within the month they, James and Sirius were inseparable.

How stable, I wonder, is a chair with a missing leg? A stool is designed that way, it balances the load evenly. A chair tips if the legs are uneven, let alone gone completely.

"Where is he?" I ask, and the steadiness of my voice surprises me. I can feel the noose around my neck, getting tighter and tighter. First Marlene, and now Peter. Who will be next?

Dumbledore hesitates. He rests his head in his hands and I am left with curious sentiment that Albus Dumbledore is older than my parents' grandparents would be. He has never, ever seemed old to me before and all of a sudden I wonder just how old he is.

I would never ask, of course. My mother would smite me from the afterlife if I did.

"There was a problem with his body."

Part of me rears back at the casual use of _body_, as though he is already dead. The other, more logical side says, no, of course, there is no _Peter_ without his soul.

I swallow my revulsion down. There is no time for panic, not now. Harry begins to stir.

"Please, Professor, don't beat around the bush."

"My dear," sighs Dumbledore. "Peter was branded with Voldemort's sigil."

_Fuck off._

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows at the same time Harry begins to whimper in earnest and I realise that I'd actually said that out loud. In front of my former headmaster.

_Focus, Lily_. _One. Two. Three._

"My apologies," I say stiffly, struck by the absurdity of apologising for my language when James' best friend -

Our secret keeper, the man we had trusted our lives and _Harry's life_ to -

A death eater?

_Peter?_

I am going to be sick, I think, and then I repeat my thought to Dumbledore, who conjures a bowl and summons Harry to his own knee with a silent wave of his wand. Harry settles down quickly, playing with Dumbledore's magnificent beard as I empty the contents of my stomach. He shrugs off my apologies once more, seemingly content to play with the baby while I recover myself.

I conjure a glass and fill it with a murmured _aguamenti_. The water slips down my throat, a sweet relief. "I need - you say they're with his mother?"

How can my pain compare to hers, I wonder? Harry has been my entire life for two years. I cannot imagine a world without him. The thought of what poor Mrs. Pettigrew is feeling right now… I can't comprehend it.

Dumbledore nods in response to my question. Harry has moved on to chasing the stars zooming around his robes with his chubby hands. "I have recalled Remus. These are troubling times, are they not? It is a comfort to be around family."

"I don't know what to do," I whisper. "Can we even go back to the cottage now? Peter isn't dead, so the secret hasn't been passed on. But where is it kept, if not his soul? Where does a person's soul go once they have been kissed by a dementor?"

"You will go to another safe house," says Dumbledore in a matter-of-fact tone. "I do not know what has happened to the secret, it is something we must research. In the meantime, I will become your secret keeper." I open my mouth to protest, but Dumbledore raises a hand to demand my silence. "I accepted your refusal before but this time I must insist. Though young Sirius would make an excellent choice in terms of loyalty and magical prowess, he is, as you said, the _obvious_ choice. He is also at plenty of risk himself. I would not risk any of your lives again. The secret cannot be given willingly, we both know this. What of coercion? No," Dumbledore shakes his head. "I will not risk it. We have all made mistakes, Lily. I would rather be overly cautious for the foreseeable future than make more, fatal mistakes."

I hang my head. "We trusted him," I say simply.

"Do you trust _me_?"

I open my eyes to see him gazing at me intently. Harry had paused his game during the speech and is still staring at the elderly man with wide, innocent eyes. I think, you are going to raise my boy as a weapon. I think, you will never bend and you will never break.

"Yes," I say.


End file.
